It had been a long day for Chief Miles O’Brien as he tried once again to hold his beat-up Cardassian-built station together. A sigh escaped from his lips, and O’Brien found himself wishing for the days before the outpost on the edge of nowhere had become the hub of Starfleet, Federation and, unfortunately, Dominion activity. The juggling act had at least been manageable then.
Well, it’s not all that bad today, now is it, Miles. A few kinks to work out of this manifold coupling and then home for the day. O’Brien shifted slightly to gain a better vantage in the small crawlspace. Why did everything that went wrong always have to be behind just about every other circuit conceivable?
“Ops to O’Brien,” came the clear message as it cut effortlessly through the desolate silence of the small area.
“O’Brien here.”
“Chief, we’ve had a few complaints of a malfunctioning computer terminal on the Promenade near the Celestial Café on the second level.” The voice of Kira Nerys seemed almost apologetic at informing him of the waiting repair.
“Acknowledged. I’ll have a look at it as soon as I’m done here,” he wearily replied.
“Thanks, Chief. Kira out.”
O’Brien stretched to complete the repair, squinting as the harsh light around the circuits came a bit too close. A computer terminal wouldn’t be that time-consuming, and it was on his way home – in a roundabout sort of way. You’re the one who wanted to be an engineer; always the tinkerer.
(-|-)
Noise.
The noise had to be stopped. It was driving them mad. They had waited too long for it to stop. Even their refuge had been disrupted. They could wait no longer. Now would be the time for them to put a stop to it.
(-|-)
The stern countenance of Constable Odo usually was enough to make anyone in his vicinity aware of his ever-watchful gaze. And if there was one thing that Odo had learned over the years it was that the visitors to Deep Space Nine needed his reassuring presence as chief of station security.
Today, however, the people seemed a bit too reassured as they strolled the Promenade. Nothing of consequence had happened; not even Quark had done anything wrong.
That I’ve caught him at. One thing that he could always count on: Quark was usually guilty of something, it was simply a matter of being at the right place at the right time to catch him at it.
The form of Jadzia Dax sidled quietly up next to Odo as he stood surveying his domain and whispered conspiratorially, “You look like you’re out for blood.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just observing that you look like a Klingon ready to kill its next tribble,” Dax remarked a wry smile playing on her lips, but the comment provoked nothing more than a harumph from the constable. She waited just a moment before adding, “or vice versa.”
Odo turned his head to face her, keeping his arms crossed characteristically in front of him in an almost challenging manner. “I am not a tribble.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were,” Jadzia apologized innocently. Odo resumed his statuesque stance in watch over the people. “I just meant you looked like one – an angry one.”
The ever-present amusement in Jadzia’s voice only irritated Odo further. “Commander, if there is some point to this conversation – ” Odo demanded, bristling at the comment.
“You need to relax a little, Constable, maybe take a vacation.” Jadzia recognized the look of obstinacy and determination for his job cross Odo’s face. “All right, think of it this way, give this station a vacation from you. You patrol the Promenade everyday, reminding everyone that you’re here and watching them – all the time. Give people a break, Odo; give them the privacy to do something illegal. Look,” she said, moving to amend her statement, “you’ve been doing a wonderful job with security on this station, a bit too wonderful. Even Quark’s getting stingy about profitable deals. You need to give everyone a break, get them out of the rut they’re all stuck in.”
“It sounds to me as if you’d like me to make my job harder than it already is.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that if there aren’t any criminals, you won’t have a need for criminal justice – and then this station wouldn’t really need a constable.”
“Excuse me, Commander,” Odo started, his arms dropping noncommittally to his side, “but I have some reports to go over with my deputies.” He nodded politely and then walked off.
“And I have to do something to make you realize that you’re spending too much of your life in that office,” Jadzia said to herself. A smile crossed her face as possibilities started running the gambit of her mind. Eight lifetimes did have their infinitely wise suggestions on how to relax.
(-|-)
Odo arrived at his office to find that his diligent deputies had already gone over the reports on their own. Apparently they had been just as bored as he was. He couldn’t blame them, he had trained them well – possibly too well? Odo shook the thought from his head. His deputies may have been a well-oiled force, but no team was perfect. There were always crimes that went unsolved, disputes and disturbances that went unanticipated.
The main chair at his desk provided him with a view of many possible tasks he could tend to. Unfortunately, catching up on the latest criminal reports from Starfleet was one of them.
As if they aren’t boring in and of themselves. They list every misdemeanor as if it were a crime against every sentient creature in the universe.
Nonetheless Odo picked up the padd. At the very least, it would give him the semblance of someone hard at work. Dax had made her point quite clear; the question now became was she right? Had he become too diligent? Was such a thing possible where justice and order were concerned?
(-|-)
Miles O’Brien collapsed wearily onto the couch. The computer terminal had checked out right as rain, simply requiring a new interface circuit. It was the turbolift that had proven to be the largest obstacle of the day. It wouldn’t have made much sense to pull crews off some of the more essential sections of the station just to realign the multiphase alternating current. Actually it was a fairly routine repair … had it not been for the group of rather irritated Nausicaans trapped on the blasted thing.
Miles closed his eyes and exhaled a deep sigh of relief-tinted exhaustion.
“Tough day?” came the sympathetic question.
“You have no idea.” Miles turned and looked at his wife. Somehow Keiko always knew how to handle his post-work sloth. He also knew the last thing she wanted to hear was a bunch of technobabble. “How was your day?”
“I just got ‘yoshi to take a nap about ten minutes ago. I barely had time to get dinner on the table.” The lines of mother-fatigue were starting to show again on Keiko’s face. Well, it wouldn’t be long before Kirayoshi was sleeping at semi-normal hours.
O’Brien took his wife’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze of support and sympathy. “Then let’s eat. I need something to take my mind off of this headache.”
“You know, Miles, you really should talk to Julian. I’m sure he could prescribe something.” Keiko moved to light the candles on the dinner table.
“It’s just the vibrations of the station. Once you get in those small places, it echoes all over the place.”
“Well then maybe you should take some time off.” It was a well-worn suggestion, and Miles was all too prepared to reject the idea.
“The station would fall apart beneath our very feet.” Keiko scolded him with a humbling glare, and he sighed in willing defeat. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. I’ll talk to Captain Sisko about it in the morning.”
(-|-)
Odo was more than glad to be off-duty. In the end, nothing could compare to the peace he felt in his own quarters. Except when Dax had paid one of her little visits.
This time she hadn’t moved any of the furniture – from what he could tell so far. Instead she had left him a gift: a stringed instrument of some sort, rather reminiscent of a Vulcan harp or an ancient Terran lyre, light and not too bulky. He slipped the note from beneath the strings and read it with a bit of curiosity.
I picked this up from a trader on his way through from the Gamma Quadrant. Don’t worry; I checked his background and I scanned and inspected this from top to bottom. There’s nothing wrong with it so I’d better hear you playing it! It’s got a nice, sweet, relaxing sound to it. -Dax
Odo gingerly plucked at one of the five strings of the instrument, which, he decided, resembled a Terran lyre, the most. A sweet sound settled in his ears, and he was forced to agree that it indeed did have a soothing tonal quality to it. It was highly doubtful that there would be any composed music for it; the thought bothered him a little, that no precedent of order accompanied the lyre. However, after he had strummed a chord or two by aimless fingers, the music washed away any reservations he had held.
(-|-)
A few weeks had elapsed by the time Odo had “mastered” his lyre and so he invited Dax over to prove to her that he had indeed been making proper use of her gift. Unfortunately, Dax had brought an added audience in Julian, Miles, and Kira, unbeknownst to the musician.
Any apprehension quickly faded, as the impromptu audience swiftly became an enraptured one. The melody lightly shifted from one tempo to another, sweeping the listeners along, confronting them with an occasional crescendo, the occasional misstruck chord, only to taper out into a soft silence.
Odo was slow to look up from the strings he had been so intently studying, but it took that movement to spur the four into applause. All looked pleasantly content and relaxed, which was just what he had hoped the piece would do.
“You see, Odo, a little relaxation never hurt anybody,” Dax said, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze.
“I’m not so sure about that, Commander,” Odo said, but something inside him begged more. “However, this,” he continued, grasping the lyre in two hands to display it, “had indeed proven to be very – relaxing.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Dax smiled sincerely.
“The action of music is so direct and potent that it knows no resistance. Most typically a kind of hypnosis is produced, an enchantment in which the hearer is rendered motionless,” quoted Bashir. When questioning glances were aimed his way, he explained simply, with a shrug, “It’s just something I read once.”
“Well, for once, I have to agree with Julian,” Kira said somewhat begrudgingly, a hint of humor edging the comment. “That was truly beautiful, Odo.”
“Thank you,” was all he could manage. Something about all the attention from his closest friends affected him in a new way. Overt praise wasn’t one of the things he had particularly learned to form an acceptance for over the years.
“You know, Odo, the stringed instrument marked the rational element of universal order’s emergence into human character and emotion on Earth about 5,000 years ago.”
“Julian,” Kira exclaimed with exasperation, “where do you come up with this stuff?”
“The Ancient Greeks. Their culture was fascinating. For instance, did you know that the reed instrument signified…”
“Enough!” came the cries of both Dax and Kira simultaneously.
“Perhaps, Doctor, it would be in your best interest to hold off on the history lesson for right now.” Odo’s voice broke through Julian’s brooding to which he responded with a slight smile and a shrug.
“So, Chief, how’s Kirayoshi doing?” Kira asked, inquiring eagerly after her namesake, but when there was no reply she spoke again. “Chief?”
“Huh? What?” Miles started as if wakened from a dream.
“Miles, maybe you’d better get some rest,” advised Bashir, laughing slightly at his weary friend.
“Yeah. I just wish this bloody headache would go away.” Miles stood, rubbing somewhat cautiously at his temples. “Working in some of the more cramped areas of the station rattled my brains a bit.”
“I thought you were taking some time off, Chief,” Dax stated curiously.
“I only just got around to it this past week. I don’t know why it’s acting up again now.” Miles was visibly irritated. “Sorry to spoil things,” he said apologetically. He hadn’t wanted to burden them with something as minor as his headache. Miles moved toward the door, but he stopped just before crossing the threshold. “Thanks for the music, Odo. It’s good to hear a real instrument again. G’night.”
The night was rather somber after the Chief left, but Odo was coaxed into a few more, slightly shorter melodies. Everyone relaxed and hoped the Chief was doing just the same.
(-|-)
The force had been mounted. They had already made their first move, gaining a small foothold into the transgressors’ domain. The violators would be made to listen and then – then they would pay. The initial strike force was already on its way to claiming enough, all would follow.
(-|-)
“Are you sure you don’t want to go see Julian about this, Miles?” Keiko pleaded. Rest still hadn’t abated this most recent headache.
“No,” he said definitely. “Now, just – just leave me alone. I need quiet.”
“All right, Miles, but if this isn’t gone by tonight, I’m calling Julian.”
“Fine,” he agreed, glad to know that he would have some peace and quiet now. It was, however, to be short-lived.
“Ops to O’Brien.”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, rolling over to finger his communicator. “O’Brien here. What is it?”
“Sorry to bother you, Chief. I realize that you’re off-duty.” The apologetic yet to-the-point voice of Captain Benjamin Sisko filtered over the comm channel. “We’re having some problems with the sensors; they’re bringing in false readings across the board.”
“I just fixed those three weeks ago,” complained O’Brien.
“Well, apparently the sensors had something different in mind.”
“I’ll be right there. O’Brien -”
“Oh, and, Chief? I hate to tell you this, but you might as well be prepared: we’re also having difficulties with the transporters and the replicators. Quark has already filed a complaint about malfunctioning holosuites, and…”
“That’s enough, Captain. It’ll be easier if I just look it over,” O’Brien said, the words grating rather harshly on his own ears.
“I knew I could count on you, Chief. Sisko out.”
There was a blissful silence once again. Miles tried to take as much of it in as possible. If the report the captain had given him was any indication, it was going to be a loud, busy day.
(-|-)
“Odo, is something wrong?”
“What? Uh, no. Why do you ask?” His mind tried desperately to drag up the last snatches of conversation he had heard.
“You just seem distracted.” Kira studied him, comfortably seated with padd and raktajino in hand. “Usually you’re more awake than I am at these meetings.”
“Ah.” He nodded his head, still trying to regain his bearings. Meetings. Tuesday morning. Criminal reports. “Right.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Her eyes narrowed, as if searching for some tell-tale sign of – of something unusual, she just wasn’t sure what.
“Of course, Major. Now, about item six…”
(-|-)
The usual bustling atmosphere of Quark’s was noticeably absent, even for a Tuesday afternoon. The Dabo tables had been paying well – too well; even winning could grow to be a bit tiresome especially for the one running the tables. The replicators had been off in their performance all day; the synthehale was flat, the hasperat, burned. The holosuites had been malfunctioning, crossing programs if he was lucky or not even running programs if he wasn’t. All in all, it was turning into a most unprofitable day, and that was enough to make Quark extremely irritable, not exactly an enviable quality in a bartender.
It didn’t help matters any, either, when even the local resident of Quark’s left.
There ought to be a Rule of Acquisition about cutting your losses when even Morn leaves. Quark leaned forward on the bar. There had to be some way that he could blame all of this on Rom.
(-|-)
She was beginning to wonder if the chime had actually sounded inside his quarters. She pressed it again, but there was still no answer.
“Dax to Odo.” There was no reply. “Computer, current location of Constable Odo.”
“Constable Odo is currently in his quarters,” came the monotone synthesized voice.
“Then why isn’t he answering?” Jadzia asked herself. It wasn’t like Odo not to acknowledge a hail. “Guess the old days of rearranging furniture are useful for something after all.” She punched the sequence she had seen Quark use and the doors slid open obediently.
It was rare, with eight lifetimes as consolation, that Jadzia was unprepared. However, as Jadzia had been the first of Dax’s hosts to have any dealings with Changelings, nothing could have prepared her, not even Kira’s comment about Odo’s odd behavior at their meeting this morning. The only light in the room shone in through the large portal window and it illuminated the Constable, propped up against the wall, dead fast asleep, the lyre lying conspicuously to the side of him.
“Odo?” She gently shook his shoulder but it evoked no response. “Odo? Odo, wake up!” Dax gave him a good shake this time, trying to hold back the fear mounting inside of her. Changelings did not sleep, especially in humanoid form!
When Odo awoke, he was immediately disturbed. Obviously sleep had also brought with it dreams, and that disconcerted him to no end. “Commander,” he said, identifying her with a great deal of surprise in his voice. “Perhaps a trip to the Infirmary is in order.” The statement was flat, clearly objective and isolated from any emotion.
(-|-)
Good. They had claimed many others – but the keystone was still elusive. No matter, he would be claimed soon enough. Then, nothing would stand in their way – and that was exactly how they preferred it.
(-|-)
“Well,” Bashir said, tapping a few buttons on a nearby diagnostic console, still trying to assimilate the fact that Odo had fallen asleep, “the computer’s not showing anything unusual.” He studied a few more readings. “I need to draw some material from you, Odo. Maybe with a more sensitive scan, I can figure out just -” Bashir’s sentence stopped short as he considered with amazement the sample he had just drawn.
“Julian -” Dax was struck speechless as she too looked at the sample: an immobile glob of Changeling gel.
“Odo,” Bashir started, shaking the small vile as if to encourage it to shift, “when was the last time you shifted?”
“Two days ago,” he stated, never taking his eyes off the vile and its contents. “I’ve been too busy playing the lyre.”
Bashir and Dax exchanged glances before Dax rushed off to retrieve the precious instrument.
“Odo, why don’t you come with me?” Bashir gently led Odo into a larger room that held space for more than just a single patient, and, at the moment, it was being put to good use. Bashir noticed Odo’s questioning expression. “They brought the Chief in about five minutes ago. Seems he fell asleep working on some problems up in Ops, only no one could wake him.” Bashir paused, noting the possible connection.
“What about Quark?” Odo asked, sitting on the edge of the diagnostic bed.
“Apparently he was coming down from the upper level of his bar when he lost his balance. Flipped over the railing and feel the rest of the way. That was about half an hour ago. I’ve had to confine all other Ferengis to their quarters when they started exhibiting similar problems with balance.” Bashir looked at Quark, disquieted by the recent developments. “It must have to do with their supersensitive hearing-I just can’t find anything wrong.”
“Who’s minding the bar?” Odo asked inquisitively.
“No one. They had to close. Seems the replicators and holosuites aren’t working, and from what I heard, everyone was winning at Dabo.”
“Knowing Quark’s tables, that seems highly improbably.” Bashir nodded in agreement.
“Julian?” He turned at Jadzia’s arrival.
“Just a moment.” Bashir turned his attention back to Odo. “Relax, Odo. I’ll try and figure just what the hell’s going on here.”
Odo seemed about to protest the idea that he just sit around and do nothing, but, in the end, he just sighed and nodded forcibly in acknowledgment.
“How’s he handling it?” Dax asked as they moved toward the small research area.
“If it were anyone but Odo, I wouldn’t even suspect that something was wrong. However, I laid down the mysteries I’m faced with so his criminally analytical mind should have plenty of ideas to distract him. But there’s something else, not just with Odo. Something’s not right, almost like there’s something missing. I just can’t put my finger on it.” He dismissed the thought with a shrug. “Now,” Bashir continued, gently picking up the lyre, “let’s see what makes this so special and enrapturing for the Constable.”
(-|-)
“How’s it coming, Major?” Sisko descended into the pit of Ops where Major Kira was hard at work — and completely exasperated.
“The Engineering crews have been unable to pinpoint the problem. None of the equipment’s damaged; everything should be working.”
Sisko assimilated the information. “Any word on the Chief?”
“Report from the Infirmary is that he’s asleep for all intents and vital signs. It’s just that nobody can wake him. Dr. Bashir said he’d inform us of any changes, but apparently he’s got his hands full with Odo.”
Sisko noted the determination on her face as it fought to conceal worry for her friends. “What’s wrong with Odo?” Kira was about to explain when she was interrupted.
“Bashir to Ops.”
“Speak of the devil,” Sisko muttered. “Sisko here. Go ahead, Doctor.” His voice bore remarkable optimism.
“Dax should be there shortly. We’ve got a problem.”
The last words I wanted to hear, Sisko thought with a sigh.
(-|-)
“The wormhole?” Sisko asked with surprise.
Dax nodded. “I don’t know how, but this lyre was — modulated during its trip through the wormhole. Someone in there wants us out of commission, Benjamin.”
Sisko set the baseball back on its stand and steepled his hands in thought. Why would the Prophets want to take the station’s crew out of commission? Then again, nothing had indicated it was the Prophets who had taken this measure. “What have you got?”
“Julian looked for any changes in the Constable’s physical makeup, something that would give him a clue as to why he couldn’t shift.”
Sisko sat back in his chair, assimilating this information as well. He hadn’t had time to get the details from Kira about what exactly was wrong with Odo; now, he wished that he had. “I’m assuming he found something?”
Dax nodded, handing Sisko a padd. “That contains the report on the Constable’s molecular resonance. As you can see by the comparison of what it is now with what it was the last time Odo was in the Infirmary, about four weeks ago, his resonance has shifted to a lower frequency.”
“Dax-” Sisko’s tone implied he didn’t understand what the scientist had been trying to convey or, more importantly, why it was significant.
“All species exhibit a certain resonance, a frequency of vibration at which they express the characteristics normal to their species. In Changelings, it’s doubly important; it’s that frequency which somehow allows them to shift and take different forms, including their natural gelatinous state.” Dax paused, to make sure her point was being made. “The resonance Odo’s exhibiting now is too low; he’s unable to shift. It’s like he’s trapped. The only upside is that since his whole body is at the same frequency, he’s not experiencing any adverse side effects from remaining in humanoid form.”
“So how is this all connected with the lyre?” Sisko asked patiently, placing the padd on the desk.
“When we examined the lyre, the scans turned out the same results I had gotten before I had even given it to Odo: everything normal, no anomalies. However, when we plucked one of the strings-something I had never done while examining it — the scanners recorded a distinctive resonance on the exact frequency Odo’s existing at. Julian did a few more scans and discovered that Odo’s not the only one affected by the lyre. The Chief and Quark both seem to have been susceptible to the lyre’s music. I’d hazard a guess that it has also been the source of all the equipment malfunctions.”
Sisko let out a low whistle. He paused a moment, a question forming on his lips. “Do you think this could be the work of the wormhole aliens?”
“We can’t say for certain. All we know is that it has basic characteristics that are attributed to the wormhole; the lyre exhibits a severe level of quantum distortion and a high level of neutrinos when it’s played.” Dax stressed the last concept. “Both are effects of being in the wormhole for an extended period of time.”
“How functional are sensors?”
“They’re not; I’m surprised the ones in the Infirmary worked at all. As is, we’re down to minimal shields, no sensors; long-range communication is down — no telling how long we’ll have short-range — no phasers, and I highly doubt any torpedoes we have would work.”
“Well then, I think it’s time we put Mr. Worf to work — assuming the Defiant hasn’t been affected by whatever it is we’re dealing with?” Sisko asked the question in an off-handed manner, waiting for Dax to tell him that indeed the Defiant had fallen prey to the resonance shift.
“I don’t think so. Worf would have been in here to talk to you about it already if something was wrong. He’s so protective.” A smile spread across Dax’s face.
“Humph. Sisko to Worf.”
“Worf here, sir.” The stalwart voice of the Klingon came over the comm a bit fuzzy.
“I have a mission for you, Commander.” Sisko smiled, certain that while Worf may not be too thrilled about a trip around the block to scan for anomalies, he surely would relish the opportunity to take the Defiant away from DS9 for even a short time.
(-|-)
Bashir sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He had spent two hours either telling people to remain in their quarters and rest or going over the diagnostic scans he had gotten from them. Cases of dizziness, severe headaches, and people having difficulty thinking had been filtering in the entire day. All had shown a shift towards the lyre’s resonance, but beyond that he could find no discernible similarity. Did it strike at random or was there some elusive pattern?
“Computer, analyze the last-” Bashir checked the padd in his hand for the exact number. “-The last 435 cases on record and define any similarities.”
“Working.” It was nearly a minute before every scrap of detail had been analyzed. “The past 435 cases have all exhibited the same resonance as witnessed in the lyre and all subjects have been male.”
Bashir looked up at the second conclusion. All male? He hadn’t really noticed at the time, but as he thought about it, there hadn’t been a single female among them. “Computer, begin log, stardate 50689.83.” Bashir rose to pace the room, hoping for some inspiration from the energy he released in his stride. “It appears that there is some inexplicable connection between this resonance phenomenon and the male species. Perhaps there is some chemical reason, but it has so far remained a moot point.” He stopped in his stride, trying to concentrate. “The Sirens sing their song,” he muttered to himself before continuing with the log. “I would suggest scanning the symptoms for any common cause, no matter how improbable. Something just doesn’t feel right.” He braced himself against the console he had been working at moments before, fatigued. The chair beckoned him again, and he sat down, noting the comfort it afforded him. “Pause recording.” Empty space on a log was not very professional, even if he was simply speculating. If only he could think straight!
Maybe a short nap would help. You have been working pretty strenuously today. Julian readily agreed with himself and secured the console before leaning forward to rest.
(-|-)
Worf was not pleased when he was informed the only way to report his findings was to go to Ops himself, the comm channels and transporters being inoperative. He didn’t even know if the information that they had gathered would do any good. Perhaps Dax would be able to do something with it.
Dax was indeed intrigued by the sensor logs of the Defiant, before they had failed as well. It had been lucky timing; fifteen minutes later and they would have had no data to work from at all.
“Apparently the most notable difference, that can’t be readily attributed to local phenomena, is the decrease in local EM radiation. Usually that’s only found near a black hole, although this is on a smaller scale.” Jadzia’s eyes scanned the log. “Wait a minute. Computer, search sensor log currently on display for any temporal fluctuations, weaknesses in the space-time continuum, or any other factors that might be associated with black holes or quantum singularities.”
“Working.” Jadzia held her breath, awaiting a negative answer hopefully. “Sensor log indicates the characteristics of a quantum singularity in formation approximately 10,000 kilometers away from the station in the direction of the wormhole.”
Dax took a deep breath. That was a little too close for comfort. “Dax to Sisko. Benjamin, I think you’d better come out here; our problem’s about to get a whole lot bigger.”
(-|-)
As Captain Benjamin Sisko stepped out of his office into the bustle of Ops, he was relatively used to hearing the words “We’ve got a problem.” He was, however, caught off-balance by the sudden jolt that hit the station as he clambered down the stairway. He tried to ignore the klaxon that accompanied the red floodlights as it resounded in his head.
“Just what the hell is going on here?” Sisko asked in general, exasperation claiming any last shred of patience that he had maintained.
“Captain, I’d like to introduce you to our newest problem,” Dax called out from her science station. “We’ve got a quantum singularity that just opened its arms in greeting, about 10,000 kilometers from the station, in the general direction of the wormhole.”
Kira Nerys hurried to her station, vacated only a few moments prior when she had gone off-duty. “What’s going on?” she asked Sisko, a tone of annoyance lacing her voice.
“It seems we have a quantum singularity to contend with as well, Major. I’m sure Dax can fill you in on-Ah!” Sisko paused, shaking his head as if to ward off some internal evil.
“Captain, are you all right?”
“Fine, Major. I’ve just got… a bit of a headache. Now, what was I saying?” Sisko tried to train his mind in on some discernible thought but the world went black before he could quite grasp it. And he descended gratefully into oblivion.
(-|-)
Excellent. The link had been fully established. Now the process could begin as planned, and when they were finished, they would have a new home in which to expand. The chaos would be eliminated and order would be restored to their existence, the one they had never asked for in the beginning of this latest “adventure.”
(-|-)
In the quiet, dark room of the Infirmary, Odo awoke from his dreams with a start. They were coming-and he could hear everything they were planning to do. Like it had been in the Great Link, he could hear them all — he knew their plans for the future, their actions of the present, and their beginnings in the past. He understood.
And he was afraid.
(-|-)
There wasn’t anything Dax could do about the quantum singularity so she left Ops to Kira and accompanied the team that took Sisko to the Infirmary. He would have been taken to his quarters, but Sisko had taken quite a bump to the head from the console that had tried to stop his collapse. Dax was surprised to find that Bashir, too, had been “claimed,” as the nurses were calling it. She was told that the doctor had been making some progress but that his research had been left unfinished. They themselves had been too busy tending to the minor injuries that so often accompanied a “claiming.”
Dax brought up a transcript of the log and found herself wishing Julian had had the time to finish the log, if for nothing else than to satisfy the curious scientist in her. However, it was up to her to finish it now. The sentence The Sirens sing their song jumped out at her. The computer had barely registered the comment, which told Jadzia that it had been an inside thought on Julian’s part.
What had he said before, that something didn’t feel right? To be sure, she felt it here; the symbiont nagged at her in strange fashion. The quiet of the Infirmary settled quickly around her and the feeling increased. It was too quiet, too still.
There aren’t any vibrations at all. Everything should be resonating with the power this station generates. So, the aliens were affecting structure as well. No telling where… or ifthey’ll stop.
“Computer, how many articles are there on the Sirens?” Jadzia asked, a new surge of energy driving her investigation. She needed to understand what Julian had meant before she could possibly think about continuing.
“There are currently 7,382 articles dealing with the specified topic.” The computer’s synthesized voice betrayed nothing of the weight that count place on Jadzia’s shoulders.
“Computer, is there a basic summary of the Sirens on file?”
“There are fourteen variations within the specified topic.”
“Have any of the variations been accessed by Dr. Julian Bashir?”
“Affirmative. One.”
“Display summary on the research console.” Jadzia scanned the summary with growing interest.
The Sirens. Figures in the Ancient Greek mythology of Earth. They were reportedly bird-women who sang so sweetly that all men passing their island were drawn in. They were the cause of many shipwrecks, devouring any sailors that survived the drowning of their ship. Their power was counteracted by any music that could drown out their song; SEE: Orpheus. Believed to have been condemned to die if they failed to claim any sailor who passed by. After the fabled journey of Odysseus, they drowned themselves in the sea. Their powers did not seem to affect women.
Jadzia sat, intrigued. And once I have more time, I’ll probably delve into it a little more, but for now, there’s work to be done. She smiled at her quaint pep talk and was just about to begin when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Odo!” Her eyes searched his face anxiously, as he seemed to wince in pain at his name. He held a finger to his lips, asking her to be silent, before leading her to a quarantine room, where they would not be disturbed.
“Don’t talk. Painful for me. Infrasound level hurt by ‘normal’ sound. Hard to talk but must tell you. Hear them. Build singularity as a door to this universe. Exist with no sound or noise; we disturb them. Irritated by the music on Earth with harmony and instruments. Tried to kill off men to gain foothold. Worked in Greek culture as the Sirens.” Dax nodded vigorously, and he knew the point needed no further explanation.
Dax opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered the look of pain on Odo’s face. She hurriedly grabbed a padd, typed out a message, and handed it to Odo. Music can drive them off, yes?
Odo smile sadly, shaking his head. “Not anymore. Adapted. Learned to use as advantage, like lyre. Wedge in the crack to force way in. Fled from Earth, looking for peace. Wormhole quiet.” He smiled, sensing the contentedness of silence. “Travel makes noise. Retaliate now.”
Jadzia’s fingers flew across the padd. How do we stop them?
“Operate here with infrasonic frequencies, wormhole too. Only mildly irritating, not painful. Go into wormhole with ultrasound. Drive them back where belong.”
Dax stood, with a nod of acknowledgment, but when she turned to leave, she was stopped.
“I go.” Jadzia was about to protest Odo’s remark, but the look of determination on his face swayed her. “I go, then return.” And when Dax nodded again, Odo returned it before he rushed to the nearest docking pad.
(-|-)
There was a message waiting for him by the time he reached the runabout Rio Grande.
Circumvent the event horizon. A simple warning, but one that held deadly consequences if not heeded. No matter, he could sense them. Even without sensors, he would be able to keep a safe distance.
Every sound involved in heading out toward the wormhole, from the clank of metal as it parted to allow him passage to the very engines that powered the small craft, threatened to drive him insane. They grated on the ear as if – well, there really was no comparison. The ultrasound will be worse, much worse.
(-|-)
There was a small crowd in Ops, and all hoped fervently for a quick resolution and a safe return. The energy was high and impatient in the room, especially in Kira Nerys. She stood determinedly at her station, ready to attach any anomaly with ferocious tenacity. As it was, all she had to do was make sure the thrusters kept them well away from the event horizon.
And keep faith that the Prophets would protect her friend.
(-|-)
All propulsion had been cut once safely inside the wormhole. Odo sat in wonder for a few minutes, just staring at the magnificent tunnel. It was times like this that he could understand why the Bajorans referred to the wormhole as the Celestial Temple. It truly was a wonder beyond all worldly or galactic things. It was, however, also the refuge of an invader, one that he had come to send home.
A few modifications to the sensor array, which functioned despite the inability to get accurate sensor readings and the plan was ready. Odo sat stiffly in the pilot’s chair, trying to brace himself against the onslaught of agony that would assault his ears and mind momentarily. Finally, with great concentration and dogged nature, he pressed the button to emit the ear-piercing sound.
(-|-)
No one was around to hear the inhuman scream that seemed to permeate every inch of the runabout as Odo felt the added agony of the Sirens. He collapsed into the chair – and then to the floor, as his form gave way to his natural gelatinous state.
No! Something was wrong! The noise was unbearable. This universe would never do; they must seek another haven, eliminate any ties with this tortuous reality. They could not flee fast enough.
And the command was issued for all to retreat.
(-|-)
“Major, sensors coming back online,” a voice said from some station in the crowd.
“Get me readings on that quantum singularity. How close are we?” Kira barked the order.
“Major – it’s gone.”
“What?” Kira punched up a visual on the space outside of the station. She did not particularly like surprises.
“Confirmed,” Dax stated from her station. “There’s no sign of it.” She paused to check a few readings. “We also just got transporters, replicators, sensors … everything back. It all seems to be operating at normal levels.”
“Sisko to Ops.”
“Ops here,” Kira replied, grateful to hear the captain’s voice again.
“Would you mind enlightening me as to just what exactly happened here?” The groggy but composed voice landed lightly in Kira’s ear.
“With pleasure, sir.”
(-|-)
After dousing the entire station with a good measure of ultrasound, just to make sure, as Bashir had put it, everything was back to normal on the station that sat out in the middle of nowhere. Everything except for the fact that the wormhole had yet to relinquish either runabout or Changeling constable.
“Captain, he’s been in there for over eight hours! When are you going to send someone in there after him?” Kira tried to contain her frustration and concern, attempting to mask it with her famed temper.
“Major, I’m as worried as you are. If the constable isn’t back within the hour, we’ll go in after him. As it is, we all need a little more time to recover from our close encounter with the end of the universe.” The easy smile that settled on Sisko’s face did nothing to diminish the concern in his eyes.
Kira nodded curtly and returned to the pit in Ops. No sooner had she checked the basic sensor logs than the brilliant blue gateway flared up in the abyss of space. Fingers fumbled a bit to acknowledge the incoming hail.
“Welcome back, Constable. We were beginning to think it had swallowed you up for good this time.”
“Not quite, Major. Not quite.” A thin, weary smile traced his lips. “Request permission to dock.”
“You’re cleared at Docking Pad B.” The professional in Kira took over.
“Acknowledged. Odo out.”
Kira watched as the runabout sailed easily towards its assigned port and then returned to her work as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
(-|-)
“You mean to tell me that all those plagues of silence that have gone undiagnosed were the Sirens trying to gain a foothold here?” Bashir asked, astonished at the toll they had waged.
“Actually, they call themselves Serinians. The Ancient Greeks must have lost something in the translation.” Odo paused to answer the doctor’s question as they walked along. “Perhaps not all of the cases, but a good deal of them. Fortunately, I believe this will be the last we hear, or rather don’t hear of them.”
“That’s fine with me, Odo. Unfortunately for the chief, his problem wasn’t solved either way. First it was the vibrations from the station and then the added sensitivity to noise. All in all, he’s been working too hard, and I intend to tell him that right now, if you’ll excuse me.” Bashir nodded and sidestepped into the Infirmary.
As if waiting to take his place, Dax stepped up next to Odo.
“You realize, Commander, that this was all your fault.”
“No you don’t. You’re not going to pin this on me alone. We were mutual partners in crime.” She poked him lightly in the shoulder as if to support her point.
“Perhaps, although I must say I have learned one thing from all of this.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Dax asked, indicating that they continue walking. “That because of the Serinians attempt to seek out and destroy every seed of chaos, you realize that perhaps a bit of it isn’t such a bad thing?”
“Actually, I was going to say that you meddle too much – Although you may have a point as well,” he added after a moment.
“I was hoping you would say that because I’ve been looking for something to replace your lyre…” Jadzia’s face lit up with enthusiasm.
“Actually, Commander, I think this – experience with musical instruments has cured me for a life time.”
“What about a little chaos?” taunted Dax.
Odo was about to answer when the sound of crashing glass attracted his attention: Quark’s, naturally. “Your statement, not mine – and one that I’m beginning to rethink. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Dax could only smile at the retreating figure. “You never learn, do you, Constable?” However, as she ducked to keep from being hit in the head by a bottle of nefarious liquid, Dax found herself thinking it over. Maybe he’s got the right idea after all. Then, the Curzon in her took over. Maybe not.
(-|-)